


A Visit From... Remus (Visitor Series #2)

by Silbane



Series: The Visitor [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Prostitution, Visitor Series, remus lupin - Freeform, visitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbane/pseuds/Silbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'd be amazed how fulfilling it can be, being a Knockturn Alley prostitute."</p><p>The adventures and encounters had by a Muggle-Born prostitute. In this one, she gets a visit from a lonely, kindhearted Werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Visit From... Remus (Visitor Series #2)

**Author's Note:**

> The writing of this fic took me entirely by surprise. My original intent with the “A Visit From...” Series was to start with Lucius (which I did, and plan to publish several more visits from him later), move onto Severus, maybe try my hands at Narcissa (so scandalous, eh?). However, when I sat down one morning to contemplate what, exactly, would entail an appointment for my dear escort if she were to meet with Lucius a second time, I decided to give a shot at Remus. I've never in my entire life thought of reading (much less writing) a Remus fic, but the muses stole my mind away and wouldn't let me focus on anything else until I'd hammered out the story in its entirety. Maybe after I gave our lovely escort the hot-and-cold shoulder of Lucius, I needed to write something a bit sweeter. Anyway, here it is, I hope you like it!

I recall once upon a time receiving a particularly interesting request for my services from one Remus Lupin. Don't worry, this was long before he met that lovely girl Nymphadora (though when I heard of their passing I was rather upset, not that I knew her personally). I didn't honestly know much about the man, other than a few rumors that he had some sort of health issue that required monthly checkups, but everything else I'd heard was quite lovely. Wonderfully enough, the rumors were true about that... his loveliness I mean. I'll bring you back to the night, if you don't mind:

It's been several months since one of my clients asked me to dinner before our shag, so I was delighted to get an owl from Remus. He hadn't mentioned any specifics about our upcoming time together, only that I would accompany him to a higher-end Muggle pub on the outskirts of London and that I should wear something nice but casual. I pull a dark blue, knee-length dress over my shoulders and slide it down my hips. A pair of black heels and a simple thinly-chained necklace are all I need to complete the outfit. As I equip them, a knock comes from my door. He's a bit early, but that's just fine. I check myself in the mirror for the last time, open the door, and am greeted by a warm smile for once. Since we'll be seen in public more or less anyway, he must not be worried about hiding himself to come visit me.

“Hello, Remus. I'm glad to finally meet you.” I beam, meeting his smile with my own. He's rather cute actually, in my opinion. He has a timid way about him, though he's tall, with a sweet face. I'm usually not big on mustaches, but he wears his very well.

“I'm glad to meet you, too, Miss...” he pauses, seeming lost for a second. He starts to blush a bit, which is just adorable. “Uh, they didn't give me a name when they recommended you.”

“As I asked them to. Just call me Missy.” I'm not some mysterious or legendary creature without a name, it's just that my mind and name are the two things I can keep from my clients, since I am already giving them everything else of me. I offer my hand to him.

“Ah, well then, Missy,” he takes my hand and plants a tender kiss onto the back of it. I'm starting to look forward to a rather romantic night, “Let's be on our way, shall we?”

He leads me out of my doorway, to which I flick the door shut, lock and ward wordlessly, and he holds his arm out for me. I entwine mine in it. He Apparates us away and we arrive at a pub much different from the ones littering Knockturn and even most of the ones in Diagon Alley. It's clean, well-lit, and the people inside are delighted and chatty rather than drowning their sorrows publicly. I can't stop the smile from forming on my lips, it seems to be as much of a treat for me as it is for him. I wonder a bit how often he goes on dates, but I can't say I've heard of one ever happening, which is disheartening. Whatever his medical condition is, it must keep him from seeking romantic relationships, but is still safe to have sexual partners at least. I look forward to making this as memorable as possible for him.

We step to the door, which he holds open for me in a gentlemanly manner. I bow slightly and enter, waving my hips a bit as I walk in front of him, hoping to give him something to leer at. We seat ourselves at a booth in the corner, sitting opposite each other, and a petite waitress comes up to take our drink orders. He orders a beer, I ask for a cocktail I know is relatively cheap at any pub. I appreciate his generosity on this, well, _date_ , it feels like, but I don't want to run his bank account into the ground. She disappears to retrieve our drinks and give us time to sort out the menu.

I almost ask him if he wants to split something, but I stop myself; I don't want him to think I'm offering to make allowances because I pity his wallet or something. Quite the opposite, I'm just not sure if I could eat a full entree. He breaks my concentration on the menu and I perk up.

“What are you feeling like? Pretty much everything here is delectable.” He smiles up at me above the laminated paper he's dipped down to get a view of me while he talks.

“I'm not sure, it all sounds good. What are you getting?”

“Likely the fish and chips, I get it almost every time.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly.

I giggle and glance back at the menu. “Predictability is good for people. I was actually looking at that, but I'm torn between that and the Shepard's pie.”

“Oh, you can try some of mine if you get something else.” His face is of concern.

I stifle a laugh, but let myself smile, Gods this man is cute. “I'll take you up on that, and you can have some of mine if you'd like.”

He smiles and nods at this, satisfied. On time, the waitress returns with our drinks and hands him an amber lager and sets a bright blue drink in front of me, then jots down our food orders and takes her leave. He folds his hands on the table. “So Missy, what are your hobbies?”

It's kind of nice of him to assume I don't spend every waking second shagging. I cross my legs and lean back a bit, thinking. “Well, I'm particularly fond of reading. I used to study Muggle Psychology, but dropped that within the last year or so. I do enjoy making potions in my spare time, though.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought of pursuing an apprenticeship?”

I smile solemnly. “I've never had the passion or dedication to even consider it, I don't mind where I'm at now.” He bites his lip, and I worry I've pushed him away a bit so I recover with my own inquiry. “What about your hobbies?”

“Hmm.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Most of my time is spent working odd jobs, but when I have spare time I go for walks, or I'll read anything I can get my hands on. What have you read recently?”

I think back to my recent reading list: several books exploring the idea of incorporating certain spells with sexual acts, which isn't the best topic for dinner conversation, two potions quarterlies, and a copy of Gilderoy Lockhart's most recent adventure. I settle on the last one. “A friend of mine purchased Lockhart's latest book, so I borrowed it and I've been reading that when I've bored of everything else.”

His face twists jokingly at the mention of the man's name. “I skimmed it briefly in a bookshop and couldn't get past the introductory paragraph. The man seems so self-obsessed it's borderline narcissistic.”

I laugh, “I agree. I have to read it in portions or it becomes too much to handle. I usually don't judge a person before I meet them, but he's a special case. There's just something so unsettling about his smile... something off about him, don't you think?”

“You know, now that I think about it, you're right. That's just the strangest thing.” He mulls over this stream of thought silently for a moment, then draws his attention back to me. “Oh, I forgot to mention, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

I blink, having forgotten I get to shag him later. “Thank you, Remus. It's one of my favorite dresses, actually, the color is so lovely I think.”

He beams a toothy smile at me, his voice well below the previous boisterous level of our conversation. “Absolutely, it's a wonderful color on you.”

I grin and look down at the table for a moment, my face flushing. Wait, I'm blushing? Gods, what am I, a schoolgirl again? I draw my eyes back up to his. This really is an interesting appointment. “Thank you.” A comfortable silence falls between us while we drink for a minute before we resume our discussion. “So, what was your most recent job?”

He leans back in his seat and smirks. “Well, nothing glamorous like Gilderoy Lockhart (I chuckle at this, rather happy he seems to be the exact polar opposite of that wizard), I was a hired hand at an apothecary, stocking shelves and sorting ingredients.”

I'd held a job or two similar, and I always oddly enjoyed the monotony of it. “Sounds relaxing.”

Remus gives me an incredulous grin, “How so?”

“Well, I like having a task I can focus myself entirely on, something I can devote myself to. It's soothing in a way.”

His grin grew into a knowing smile. “I see.”

I smile bashfully in return, realizing how well that related to my current line of work. He's far too polite to comment on it outright, not that I would be upset. I don't mind talking about my work; in fact, I love debating the psychological aspects of it, the pros and cons, but I think he might faint if I go into any detail.

Our waitress arrives with our food, and we dig in. As promised, I take a forkful of my dish and offer it to Remus, who's already indulging in his fish and chips with fervor. He glances up with hesitation, his cheeks turning pink, and happily accepts it into his mouth. The corners of my lips tilt up and I wonder what his own lips feel like.

“Mm!” He gives a muffled grunt of approval and grabs a napkin to dab away the potato flakes that attached themselves rather endearingly to his mustache. “That's fabulous!” He tilts his plate toward me, his eyebrows raised. “Would you like to try mine?”

I finish off the last sip of my cocktail. “Sure.”

He copies the process, holding out a fork heaped with delicious-looking flaky fish. I open my mouth and make eye contact with him. As the dinner goes on, I'm growing more and more eager to see what makes this man writhe under the covers. He glides the utensil to the tip of my tongue, his jaw tight, and I surround it with my mouth, making a show of pulling the food slowly from the tongs. His nostrils flare with sudden arousal, but his eyes flicker to my plate and his expression changes completely.

“Oh, your hair!”

I swallow the bite—which was as delicious as it looked—and glance down at my hair. “Hm? Oh!” In my excitement I managed to dip a section of my hair onto my plate, effectively coating the tips in bits of food. I pause. What on earth is wrong with me tonight? My chest and face flare up with a deep red tint and I burst into laughter. I can't believe myself. I get so lost during my sessions when I have no instruction or direction to go on.

He laughs heartily along with me, reaching over to towel off my hair with his napkin. I look up at him, my blush still running rampant across my skin while he moves a different edge of the napkin to wipe away a crumb that made its way onto my chest.

His look of arousal returns. I bite my lip as I stare up into his eyes. Gods I hope he finishes his food soon.

He settles back into his spot opposite me and clears his throat. The waitress makes an appearance and procures two glasses of water for us, clearing the table of the emptied drinkware. We eat the rest of our food quietly, occasionally commenting on one thing or another, and finally we're done. I'm amazed for a bit that I was able to clear my plate, but he pays for the bill, and we anxiously Apparate back to my place.

I unlock my door and allow him through after me. I close it, turn to him, and we stop for a second not knowing how to proceed. He didn't specify any sexual desires or how he wanted me to act. I decided the best course of action was to act naturally, with what felt right at the moment. I extinguish half of the candles to dim the lights, then step to him and place a hand on his chest. He inhales sharply at my touch. I lean up on the tips of my toes and push my lips lightly onto his. They're incredibly soft, just like I'd imagined. I can sense his hesitation, but he responds with his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me into him. I can feel him through his trousers, he's already hard and ready, but I want to take this slowly. He seems like an old-fashioned sort.

I place my arms around his shoulders and deepen the kiss. I stifle a giggle as his mustache hairs brush under my nose, tickling me incessantly, but it adds to the feel of everything. I part my lips and flick his with my tongue, begging entrance to his mouth. He accepts and our tongues intertwine lovingly. His movements along my back are affectionate, and the heat low in my belly is simmering with excitement.

After a few minutes of increasingly passionate kisses, I pull away and drop my arms to lace my fingers in his and pull him toward the bed. His eyes are half-lidded as I tug the dress over my head and slip out of my heels. I turn my back to him and drape my hair over one shoulder, offering the my neck to him. “Could you?”

His calloused but gentle fingers unclasp the necklace and set it on the nightstand beside my bed. I return to face him, our eyes locked, and I slowly begin to unbutton his shirt. His eyes are pools of lust at this point, but there's fear in them, too. I'm determined to rid him of that fear for the time being.

I push the shirt off of his shoulders and let it glide down his arms. I place my fingertips on his neck and drag downward softly, leaving a trail of goosebumps along his hairy chest. The trail ends at his trousers, which I unbutton as well, and now we're left with only a few garments in the way. Once again, we're at an impasse. I'd like to make the next move, but I'd like _him_ to make it more, he deserves to have the confidence of directing us.

This moment of wait seems to be too much for him, because he brings his hands to my hips and kisses me again. This time, though, he moves his lips to my jawline, neck, and collarbone, sending a shiver down my spine. My arms find his neck once more and we casually wade our way over to the bed until my thighs are pressing against it, his body is pressing against mine. I fall backward, bringing him with me, but he pulls away.

“Allow me.” His fingers follow the trim of my knickers, pulling them down to reveal my quim. His mouth drops open slightly, longing evident on face. I wriggle a bit, helping him ease off the piece of clothing, and he places his hands on my inner thighs, pushing them apart a bit wider. His hope-filled eyes flicker up to mine. “May I?”

A breathy “Please,” is all I can muster. His affections are so sentimental and so unlike what I'm used to from my patrons, I find myself rather swept up into the moment.

He dips his face down, burying himself in my thighs; cool air rushes against my skin as he inhales deeply. I learned soon after I started this line of work that a majority of more sensual men seem to have a strange desire to smell a woman's arousal, and he's no exception. I can feel a bit of my wetness trickle down, and his mild tongue parts my lips with a lick upward. I shriek at the delicious contact, and after he's looked up to verify it was, indeed, a sound of pleasure, he continues to work his tongue around my entrance. Eventually, he plunges just the tip of his tongue in, drawing another sound from me that barely registers in my own ears. I know he's savoring the taste of me, which only makes the sensations more erotic.

He sucks and licks at my quim for what feels like long, luscious hours when his oral appetite for me is sated. He stands up, his hardness formidable, and turns his attention to my stomach, a sheen of sweat having formed on me. Aromas seem to have a particularly stimulating effect on him as he glides his nose along my skin. He relishes in my scents, creeping upward, back up to my neck.

“Remus...” I beckon him onward, gently bucking my hips up against him. He releases me and I scoot further up the bed, him following in tune, and covers me with his body, resting on one elbow. He positions himself at my entrance and slides the very tip in. My mouth falls open with a silent moan. His eyes close, in ecstasy.

He presses further in and brings his free hand up to my cheek, fusing our mouths together in lavish kisses once again. He begins to move within me. His thrusts are slow and passionate, allowing both of us to feel the amazing friction of his cock stretching my inner walls. This is sensual and beautiful, it doesn't feel like fucking. No, this is lovemaking. It's as if, using me, he's releasing every pent up urge he's had for months. He's cleansing himself within me, and I welcome it with every ounce of my being. He is why I do this.

I stretch my arms up to his back, resting my palms on his tense muscles. I feel him moving within me, against my skin, under my hands, Gods he feels so good. Every inch of him continues to draw out so infuriatingly, leaving me desperate for contact again, then is lovingly placed back into its home, my sex, and sends waves of mind-numbing pleasure through me. His tongue accents his tender movements, rivaling with mine, and only takes a break when we begin panting hard enough to disrupt it.

His lips are brought to mine once more, and in my excitement, I bite his lower lip between my teeth to spice things up a bit. Instead of egging him on, however, he stops moving entirely and stares at me.

His eyes dim for a moment, like a man who's losing control, and it sends a shock of primal fear throughout my body as I look up at him. His body shifts as he glares down at me. He puts his hands on my hips and unsheathes his length from within me, then with strength I had no idea he possessed, flips me onto my stomach and lifts me to my knees.

There's something dark about Remus Lupin that I don't know about.

He shoves his cock back into me with surprising force, eliciting a guttural moan from the both of us. His pace is now quick, and I'm melting into it, this being my favorite position. In his thrusts, his bullocks begin pendulously slapping against my clit, toying with it, driving me mad. Oh, Gods this is amazing. He grabs my wrists from behind and forces me to drop my face to the mattress. I tilt my head to the side to breath while my hands curl into fists.

“Oh, _Gods_ , yes!” I cry out, the new position giving his balls the perfect angle to smack my ever-sensitive bud. I feel my lower abdomen tense in that wonderfully devilish way, my orgasm rapidly building.

As I convulse in pleasure, he brings my wrists up behind me, pulling me against him as he drives into me. My walls are still pulsing around him, and I feel his teeth poised on my shoulder as if ready to bite me, but he thinks better of it for some reason and resolves to licking and sucking red bruises onto my skin. His hips jolt and freeze for a moment, a growl ripping from his lungs, and he releases himself within me. I hum in satisfaction as his seed dribbles down my leg upon his exit, though his presence inside of me is already sorely missed.

He releases his hold on my wrists, seemingly returning to his pre-feral self. He relaxes back onto the bed, and I follow suit, equally exhausted. I rest my cheek on his shoulder.

Several minutes pass, and I notice he's thinking deeply about something. His eyebrows were creased with worry. “You... you use contraception, don't you?”

I nod against him, trailing my fingers up and down his chest. “For pregnancy and diseases, of course.”

He sighs, and is once again void of tension. I feel myself start to drift off, but I have much I still need to do tonight in preparation for tomorrow morning's appointment, and I need to get cleaned up. Regardless of how comfortable the bed feels right now. I lean up on my elbow and look down at him. He meets my eyes with a kind smile and sits up, grasping the back of my head with his hand, and plants a soft kiss onto my forehead.

He dresses, places my payment on a nearby table, and I put on a robe to feel a bit less out of place being the only one without clothing in the room. I walk him to the door, pausing to say our parting words.

“Thank you so much, Missy. I feel so much better. You're incredible.” The sincerity in his eyes is still so charming. I pray with all of my heart he can find a woman that will make him happy.

I smile up at him. “You're welcome, and thank _you_ , Remus, for giving me the most wonderful night.” I kiss him on the cheek before he leaves, then watch him from behind the door as he walks away with a self-assured stride.

_Thank you for visiting, Remus._

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't feel like leaving a comment, kudos make my heart sing! :D


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